


Speyeria Cybele

by prettybirdy979



Series: Pure Imagination [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Backstory, Family, Family Feels, Family Secrets, Gen, POV Minor Character, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybirdy979/pseuds/prettybirdy979
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew's not the first Murdock to tell Father Lantom he had the Devil in him. Only Jack's Devil was nothing like the one Matthew sees in himself.</p><p>Jack's Devil was magic. Literally. </p><p>(Or a history of Father Lantom's relationship with magic, the Devil and the Murdock boys)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speyeria Cybele

**Author's Note:**

> My first non-prompted Daredevil fic! Based on some of the [Magical AU headcanons](http://prettybirdy979.tumblr.com/tagged/DD-Magical-AU/chrono) I've had ratting around in my head for a bit. Also written because Father Lantom needs more fic about him. He's awesome. 
> 
> Warning though- this is a bit of a backstory for Lantom and so touches (briefly) on the Rwandan Genocide, though it's not explicit about the details nor anymore violent than the show. But. Fair warning. 
> 
> Many thanks to the anons on the [meme](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/1097.html?thread=9186889#cmt9186889) who let me talk out my Father Lantom headcanons with them (one of whom had an idea I've used in this, thank you!) and to Interrosand for giving this a once-over and helping with the title. And tags. And summary. And thanks in general for being amazing.

Father Lantom - Peter, though few now use his first name and sometimes it takes a moment for him to remember he is Peter when called - first learns about magic when he’s in his early thirties. It’s during his last six months in the United States before leaving to be a missionary and he’s been assigned temporarily to Hell’s Kitchen, to learn from the ex-missionary priest of a church there.

He first meets Jack Murdock when Jack decides the best place to hide is a confession booth.

These two events are related.

************

‘Hello my child?’

‘Ah…’ The young man in the booth says after a long silence. He’d slammed the door on his way in and Lantom can hear his heavy breathing.

Lantom sighs, and keeps his smile out of his voice. He’s always had a soft spot for children. ‘Is this your first confession?

‘Umm. No?’ Something about the voice clicks and Lantom realises he knows who is in the booth. Jack Murdock; the nearly teenaged boy who insists on calling the communion wafers ‘Christ Crunchies’ but only when his mother wasn’t in earshot. Lantom doesn’t blame him as Mrs Murdock is a scary person - so is Mr Murdock, though he never comes to church.

Not his first confession but… ‘Have you confessed since?’ If memory serves, Jack is just a few months from his Confirmation so it has been at least three years or more since his first confession.

A sheepish silence comes from the booth beside him. ‘No.’

‘You’ve forgotten how to.’

‘Yeah.’ There is something else in Jack’s voice and Lantom finds himself wondering if the boy actually meant to be in this position. ‘Can… can you help?’

‘I can son. First, you say ‘Bless me Father, for I have sinned.’ Jack dutifully repeats the phrase. ‘Then you say how long it’s been since your last confession.’

‘I don’t remember.’

Lantom smiles. ‘Then you say ‘It’s been too long since my last confession.’ Again, Jack parrots the phrase using the same inflection Lantom did. Curious. ‘And now you tell me your sins.’

There’s a long silence. ‘My sins?’

‘What you came to confess.’

Lantom can hear the shuffling of feet in the booth. ‘And if I didn’t come to confess any sin?’

Finally the niggling feeling that’s been poking at Lantom starts to scream. There’s something wrong here. ‘Then you tell me why you came.’ Beside him there’s a faint noise; a sniff. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Am I in trouble?’ Jack sounds defensive and angry but there’s a note of fear in his voice. Lantom sighs.

‘No son, you’re not in trouble.’ He considers for a long moment. ‘You can tell me why you’re here and I promise you I won’t tell anyone.’

‘Really?’ And Jack sounds disbelieving.

He puts as much seriousness as he can into his voice. ‘I can’t tell anyone anything you tell me under the seal of confession. What you say here is between me, you and God. No one else.’

‘And you actually do that?’

‘I made a vow to God I would. No thing, or no one, can make me break that vow.’ There’s more shuffling. ‘Jack-’

‘How’d you know it was me?’ It sounds like Jack just stood suddenly.

‘I know your voice. I’m still not going to tell; knowing who you are won’t change that.’ Lantom sighs. ‘I was going to say, would it make you feel more comfortable if we were to go somewhere else?’

Jack taps on the screen. ‘Go where?’

‘There’s a meeting room in the back of the church we can sit in. No one usually goes there this time of day.’ And Lantom can go steal some of Sister Agnes chocolate chip cookies for Jack; she won’t mind if it’s for a worthy cause.

‘O...okay. No one else can get in?’

 _He’s definitely hiding from someone_ , Lantom thinks. ‘Yes. No one else can get in.’

Jack opens the booth’s door. ‘Okay.’

************

Ten minutes later they’re sitting at a table, eating some very good chocolate chip cookies in complete silence. Lantom knows better than to push; Jack will talk when he’s ready.

Finally, he puts down his third cookie. ‘So, anythin’ I say is a secret?’

‘If you say it to me; yes.’

‘Even if it's real bad?’

Lantom keeps his expression neutral though his mind is whirling. ‘Yes, even if it is bad. I am here to listen and to guide you to God’s forgiveness.’

Jack bites at his lip. ‘God ain’t goin’ to forgive me. Ma says so.’

Anger rushes through Lantom though he doesn’t show it. He dislikes people who use God against their children like Jack is implying; their version of God is not one he believes in. ‘Your mother may be misguided. God forgives all our sins.’

‘All of them?’ For some reason Jack is getting angry.

Lantom frowns. ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness*,’ he quotes.

Jack shakes his head. ‘If I confess?’

‘Yes.’

There’s a long pause then, ‘I got the Devil in me.’ Jack looks down, then back up at Lantom through his eyelashes. ‘That’s my sin. Ma says so.’

‘Jack-’

‘She says so and she’s right. The Murdock boys have the Devil in them.’ He finally lifts his head and brings his hands up in front of him. ‘I can show you.’

Before Lantom can reply, Jack has cupped his hands, brought them up to his face and whispered a word to them. Then he moves them away from his mouth slightly and breathes into them. The air glows as it leaves his mouth and Lantom feels his eyes widening. There’s something in the air, a lightness that has Lantom smiling even as shock races through him.

For a moment Jack is cupping a handful of glowing air but then he lowers his hands so they are still together but flat. And above them is a butterfly; made of shifting swirls of colour - red, yellow and black mostly- that flutters as Lantom looks at it in disbelief. God help him; what is this?

‘I told ya. I got the Devil in me. Pa calls it magic but I think Ma’s right.’  Magic? Staring at the shimmering lights Lantom can certainly believe it’s some kind of magic; some kind of wonder that God has gifted to this boy - and his father?

Lantom finds himself shaking his head as Jack’s words fully register. ‘That’s not the Devil Jack. The Devil is a construct, a mistranslation turned into a nightmare.’ He watches the butterfly flap a bit higher at his words. ‘This… this is a gift from God.’ He’s sure the look on his face is ridiculous but Lantom can’t seem to care. In front of him is confirmation of the beauty of God’s gifts.

‘What?’ Jack sounds confused and Lantom realises he might need to explain his thoughts. It’s hard though, when all he can do is stare at the amazing sight before him. The magical sight before him. Because it’s magic. Magic is real.

He knows he should be thinking of witches and deals with evil forces right now but... but Jack is a child and this creation of his is both beautiful and harmless. Evil forces do not exist - the Devil is a construct - and it is the choice to turn away from God and to do evil things that makes a person evil.

‘The Devil is an idea; something people use to scare us into believing in God. This-’ Lantom gestures at the butterfly and it flutters as if it can see him, ‘-this can only be a gift-’

Jack slams his hands together and the butterfly vanishes. ‘It don’t feel like a gift.’ He rises and runs for the door.

‘Jack-’

He pauses in the doorway. ‘You won’t tell anyone, right? That I was here and what I said?’

Lantom catches the hidden question - Will he tell anyone about Jack’s magic?. ‘I won’t. Your secret is safe with me Jack and my door is always open.’

‘Until you leave, right?’

For the first time, Lantom finds himself regretting his desire to be a missionary. ‘Until I leave, yes. I’m so-’

‘Save it.’ Then Jack is gone; slamming the door behind him.

Lantom finds himself wondering that night if it was it his mother or his father that had driven Jack to hide in the church… and how he could help a boy so convinced his gifts were proof of his own evil.

************

Lantom’s six months are up before either question is answered.

************

By order of the man - the _Devil_ , how could he have been so wrong, so naive - who killed him, Gahiji’s body is to be left in the centre of the village as a warning. Not that there’s much to be left… Lantom isn’t even sure what parts belong to which member of the family right now.

He finds himself hovering at the edge of the space anyway, as dusk creeps over the village, eying the soldiers left to guard the bodies and wondering. Wondering if he could have done something or said something… but no. He’d seen the Devil, the monster in the army commander’s eyes. Nothing could’ve saved Gahiji.

‘Father?’ A soft voice asks and Lantom turns to look. A young girl - the friend of one of Gahiji’s granddaughters if Lantom’s memory serves - is standing there. For a moment he cannot recall her name, but then he remembers her being at some of his impromptu language lessons at Gahiji’s. Alice. She’s the one good at explaining Kinyarwanda to an old man and whose English is nearly as good as her French.

‘My child,’ he says softly. ‘You should not be here.’

Alice stares at him. ‘I believe you should not be here too.’

He looks back at the blood soaked ground. ‘I know. But I cannot bear to leave him unburied.’ Lantom has left many unburied. Each body weighs on his soul and he performs as many Last Rites as he can. It is not enough. Nothing he does is enough.

‘You being dead will not help.’

With a final look at his friend, Lantom allows himself to be tugged away.

************

‘Be careful of the Murdock boys, they got the Devil in ‘em’. For a moment, Lantom is dragged back to the memory of a small boy with magic declaring that while creating one of the most beautiful sights Lantom’s ever seen. This must be that boy’s son; does he believe his magic is the Devil too?

Lantom may believe the Devil is real now but he’s still utterly convinced magic is a gift from God. Nothing he’s seen has changed his mind on that.

The man chuckles and brings Lantom out of his thoughts. ‘And you’d see it sometimes in the ring.’ It dawns on Lantom that while this man might be talking about the same Devil in the Murdock boys; he either doesn’t have Jack’s gift…

Or he doesn’t see it as his Devil.

By the end of the confession Lantom is sure of one thing even if the rest of it has left him unsettled. If this is Jack Murdock’s boy and he has magic, he doesn’t view it as a sign of the Devil.

Something like relief settles into his thoughts. Maybe Jack managed what Lantom couldn’t - convinced himself that his gift was a gift.

************

‘Matthew. Here for a latte?’

Matthew didn’t look up but he turns his head enough so that Lantom can see his smile. ‘Maybe later Father.’ Lantom takes a seat in the pew behind Matthew’s. ‘I just wanted somewhere quiet to think for a minute. It’s been, ah, a little crazy recently.’

‘I’ve heard. Fisk seems to be quite the devil-’ Matthew turns his head to look at Lantom in surprise, ‘- according to the papers. Of course Daredevil isn’t much better.’

At least Matthew has the grace to look sheepish. ‘It’s like you said Father, nothing drives people to the path of righteousness faster than the devil at their heels. He’s a symbol.’

‘This isn’t quite what I meant.’

‘I know.’ Matthew shrugs. ‘But if it works?’

‘You can justify a lot with ‘if it works’. Be careful.’ Matthew nods and they fall into silence. Lantom finds himself contemplating the light through one of the windows. Something about it stirs a memory but the memory itself is just out of reach…

‘Father?’

Lantom jerks. ‘Sorry, just lost in thought.’ He glances at Matthew and the memory finally returns. Jack’s butterfly had had the same colours in it. Of course.

‘I ah, heard some people talking last week.’ There’s guilt in Matthew’s voice and Lantom narrows his eyes, remembering Matthew’s vague description of how he does what he does.

‘Oh? Could they have heard you?’

Matthew looks a little more sheepish. ‘I think I was in their sights. I… I have some issues judging specifics like that.’ He shrugs and Lantom nods. He can understand why that might be an issue. ‘But they were talking, these people, about this church and how it’s changed.’

‘By ‘these people’ are you referring to a certain pair of ladies who like to complain about every change?’ Okay, so there’s a touch of bitterness in Lantom’s voice. If Matthew means who Lantom thinks he does, well… Lantom’s a priest but he’s no saint. He tries but he can’t help being annoyed after weeks of having to listen to these two ladies ‘confess’ about their anger regarding the changes in the church and neighbourhood - to one of the men they’re complaining about.

A smile spreads across Matthew’s face. ‘Perhaps. I thought no names was best.’

‘You’re surprisingly alone in that.’ Matthew ducks his head but Lantom hears the huff of laughter. ‘What did they say that has you so conflicted?’

Matthew raises his head, the smile gone. ‘They were talking about the ‘good old days’; back when their kids were growing up. Back when my Dad was a kid. Even mentioned him, said it was nice to see his son managing church when he never could.’ Lantom frowns, unsure of where this is going. ‘Then one of them said… one of them said that it was nice that that ‘dear Father Lantom’ made it back here in one piece. That they’d thought for sure you’d gone overseas to get yourself killed instead of staying in Hell’s Kitchen like a sane man.’

Oh. ‘Matth-’

‘I know it’s none of my concern Father. But I was just… curious, I guess. You didn’t seem to recognise me.’ _You implied you didn’t know me or my family_ , went unspoken but not unheard.

Lantom sighed. ‘I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. And I didn’t recognise you, not that first day. I knew your father-’ and Matthew jerks, as if Lantom’s words were a physical blow, ‘-but only briefly and he was a child himself. Murdock’s a common name but I had an inkling you were related so I asked around.’

Matthew shifts. ‘How?’

He can’t break the seal of confession but… ‘Let’s just say that the Murdocks believing they have the devil in them was not a surprise to me.’ He rises and pauses for a moment, ‘Though of the two of you, I think you have a better idea of what that means.’

‘Father, what do you mean by that?’ And he sounds so _desperate_ that Lantom finds himself sitting back down. He can’t tell Matthew anything but… maybe…

‘Did I ever tell you I believe in magic?’ Matthew blinks at the non-sequitur then freezes. He carefully shakes his head. ‘Oh, I’m supposed to believe in dark forces and the curse of witches; it’s in the bible. But magic? Actual, good, beautiful magic? Bit of an oddity.’

‘Just a bit,’ Matthew says with forced casualness. He’s a very poor liar, for someone who does what he does. ‘Why do you believe in magic?’

Lantom looks out the windows again, watching the play of colours. ‘Because I know it’s real. Just as I know the devil walks among us, I know that God has gifted some people in this world with a special gift. This magic… nothing I’ve seen has convinced me it’s anything but a gift from God. Because the thing with gifts is, it’s just a talent. Something you can use, as you see fit. Neither good nor evil, it just is. You can waste it, use it for evil. But it still was a gift.’

He’s never seen Matthew pay so much attention. ‘And the person who convinced you of magic; what did they think?’

‘They thought it was the devil in them. Even as they showed it to me, they thought it was a mark of their own evil and I would condemn them for it.’

Matthew fiddles with his hands as Lantom rises again. He’s halfway down the aisle before Matthew speaks. ‘This person, what magic did they show you? What magic did they think would convince you of the devil in them?’

Lantom smiles at the memory. ‘A butterfly.’ Even from here, he can see Matthew’s confused blink. ‘I know, it was a poor choice. But a lovely one.’

‘What… what colours?’

‘Red, yellow and black. For the most part.’ Lantom narrows his eyes as Matthew’s hands move a little quicker and he lifts them to his mouth in a familiar gesture. ‘Matth-’

He cuts himself off as Matthew lays his hands flat and the same butterfly that Jack had shown him flutters above his son’s hands. Oh, it’s not quite the same; while the black is perfect and the red faded but definitely red, Lantom has to guess that the third colour is meant to be yellow and not the murky brown Matthew’s managed. But it’s the thought that counts and this… this is definitely Matthew’s way of both confessing to sharing his father’s magic and giving Lantom another glimpse at a wonder he thought he’d never see again.

‘Like this?’

‘Exactly like this,’ Lantom says and he’s not even lying. Matthew gives him a genuine smile then presses his hands together and the magic vanishes.

‘My Dad never did let me think magic was evil. I rarely saw him use it but he was always making me learn it.’ He lowers his head and Lantom realises that he’s moved up the aisle, to be closer to Matthew. This means he’s able to hear Matthew’s whispered, ‘I always wondered why he hated his…’ He raises his head as Lantom draws near. ‘Never thought I’d get to know.’

‘God gives us gifts when we least expect them,’ Lantom says automatically, uncomfortable with the look of gratefulness on Matthew’s face.

Matthew smirks. ‘If you want to look at it like that Father.’

Lantom shrugs. ‘It helps sometimes.’ The church door opens and both of them turn to look - Matthew probably more out of habit than anything else. ‘Want a latte?’

‘Next time. I should be getting back.’ Lantom nods and Matthew rises, folding out his cane. He pauses a few pews up. ‘Someone keeps leaving violets on my Dad’s grave. Not every week, but often enough.’

Lantom smiles. ‘Well, I hear they’re good plants for attracting butterflies. Perhaps someone thought it appropriate.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Nothing to thank me for son.’ But Matthew just shakes his head with a smile, does a complicated looking gesture with his hands and then leaves.

For the next week after, the church smells faintly of violets and there’s more butterflies in the gardens than Lantom knows what to do with.

Like he said, a gift from God.

**Author's Note:**

> Title refers to a [Great Spangled Fritillary](http://www.butterfliesandmoths.org/species/Speyeria-cybele) which would probably be close to the kind of butterfly both Jack and Matt created. Everything I've found in my research (YES I DID RESEARCH FOR THIS ONE TINY THING) says this butterfly is native to New York and both of them could've seen it. And that it likes violets. 
> 
> Lantom's garden is totally full of these things. It's kinda awesome. 
> 
> *1 John 1:9 (this is the bible quote, in case you're wondering)


End file.
